


Rest

by gotham_ruaidh



Series: Gotham Writes for Imagine Claire & Jamie [46]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 03:55:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7027474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gotham_ruaidh/pseuds/gotham_ruaidh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagine what happened after the “La Dame Blanche” scene in 02x05 “Untimely Resurrection,” when Jamie tells Claire “All I wish for is for you to lay in my arms…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted at [Imagine Claire & Jamie](http://imagineclaireandjamie.tumblr.com/post/144301586761/rest) on tumblr

Claire couldn’t have said how long they had stood there, Jamie’s arms wrapped around her, fingers splayed over her belly, nose buried deep in her hair, the soft purr of pleasure in his throat rumbling against her cheek.

So much. The dinner. The attack. The long, terrifying night without him, Fergus trying so hard to be so brave for her - the boy who had quickly become much more than an employee. When his eyes had drooped for the last time and he had curled against Claire’s shoulder on the settle, her mind had flashed to Lallybroch - the sitting room, a few years hence - and seen the thick red curls of a small child settling against her in a similar way.

Fergus needed a mother - and she needed to learn how to be a mother. Perhaps they could help, and teach, each other?

Jamie kissed her temple again - grounding her in the present. The past. Her future.

He was uncharacteristically clingy - wordlessly requesting reassurance.

She was only too happy to give it.

Slowly she turned in his arms to face him. He watched her from eyes hooded with desire and exhaustion, a small, perfect smile gracing his lips.

She smoothed her hands up the entire length of his arms - watched the pulse in his neck race - and slowly, deliberately unbuttoned the rest of his beautiful waistcoat.

Her mind flashed again - this time to the past, one night during their all-to-brief respite at Lallybroch, Jamie too exhausted to undress himself after a day in the fields, and his wide, sweet smile as she had undone his buttons, one by one.

He shrugged the waistcoat to the floor and licked his lips. His arms loosened, fingers twisting in the delicate red ribbon holding her dressing gown closed.

“I want to see ye in the sunlight,” he whispered, almost so low that she couldn’t hear it. “When was the last time we lay together in the sunlight?”

He untied the ribbon, and the dressing gown hung loose from her shoulders.

“Lallybroch,” she breathed. “At Lallybroch. Maybe that was the time we made the baby.”

His eyes closed now, face full of so much emotion that it almost looked like pain. Then his blue gaze, swimming with tears, bore into hers.

“I need ye, Claire.” His voice shook but his hands were steady as he pushed her lovely dressing gown to the floor. “I need - time - with ye. So much time.”

She untucked his shirt from his breeches. “Today we have all the time in the world.” She kissed the hollow of his throat, tasting sweat. “No Hopital today. No wine business today. No dinners or meetings in brothels today.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Aye. Aye, we need that.”

Gently he pushed her back, but only far enough so that he could kick off his boots and pull the grimy shirt over his head. He winced.

“Christ, I smell like the prison,” he muttered. “I must wash, Claire - I canna - ”

Claire helped thread his arms through the frilly sleeves and set to untying the hand brace she had designed. “No. Not now. I can’t wait, Jamie. I *won’t* wait.”

She made deft work of the laces and when the leather brace slipped to the floor, his fingers curled in relief. Then set to unbuttoning his breeches, the fingers of his left hand still slow but finally cooperating.

Finally he stood before her, naked, heart full of love. She was clad in just her shift, chest rising and falling with anticipation.

“Here we are again,” she smiled, so radiant in the soft light of dawn.

“Are ye going to walk around me, like the last time?” he teased. “Will I have to ask ye to take off yer shift?”

One, two, three steps and she was right in front of him. She raised up her arms, and he hoisted the fabric up and over her head.

Skin to skin now, the bulge of the child resting at his belly.

Claire’s arms around his neck. His head bent to rest in the curve of her shoulder, hands caressing and sheltering their miracle.

Bliss.

“Ye *are* a witch, Claire,” he murmured against her after a while, feeling their skin peel apart as he raised his head. “All I think - all I do - the very air I breathe, it is for you. Of you. Because of you.”

Then he lifted her up - and her legs wrapped around his hips - and gently he lay her on the bed, her back to his front, skin on glorious skin, legs curled around her. Cherishing her.

He hadn’t bothered pulling back the quilt - but he warmed her. As she warmed him.

She twisted her head back to face him on the pillow. Their noses bumped, and she laughed into their kiss. Savoring him.

He wanted her - and she wanted him - but there was time. So much time.

So she shifted her body to face him, enjoyed the somewhat awkward dance with him as they tried to find her a comfortable position, and fell asleep on his shoulder, his lips planted on her forehead, whispering in the *Gaidhlig* things she could not understand but knew were beautiful.

And when Murtagh, fresh from a scrubbing by Suzette, gently opened the bedroom door to see what was taking Jamie so long to come downstairs - and found the bright morning sun shining on the twisted flesh of Jamie’s back, Claire’s leg draped over his hip, Jamie’s chest rising and falling in a deep, restorative sleep - he smiled, withdrew to the sitting room, and quietly shut the door, heart full of joy.


End file.
